Fallen
by Qweb
Summary: An Avengers battle leaves two teammates damaged, one physically, one emotionally. Action, humor, angst and whump, plus an amazing rescue and an argument about archaic weapons. Set in the "A Very Good Team" universe. All the team except Thor.
1. Prologue

_A/N: I know this is just a teaser, but there's action, angst and whump ahead. This is in the "A Very Good Team" universe. No Thor in this, but everyone else._

* * *

**Fallen**

**Chapter 1 – Prologue**

The mad scientist's EMP weapon was four-fifths of an epic fail. Hulk didn't notice the pulse, as he ran down fleeing enemy jeeps one by one. Captain America flipped away his squealing earpiece and continued slinging his shield at the machine gunners riding the backs of two racing jeeps.

Black Widow's Taser bracelets shorted out, but they were well insulated, so it was just a minor annoyance. Unharmed, she ignored the brief sparking and kept up precision firing with her handguns, taking down the mercenaries who had been "unhorsed," by Cap's shield and Clint's arrows.

The EMP wrung a curse from Hawkeye, when his automatic quiver stopped working, but he had plenty of experience with low-tech quivers and was only slightly slower choosing arrows by hand.

So, Dr. Demonic's secret weapon was four-fifths an epic fail, but the other fifth was a screaming success.

**To Be Continued**


	2. Earlier That Day

_A/N: The first chapter was a teaser. Now we rewind to earlier in the day when the Avengers are training. Thor is in Asgard. Phil is at SHIELD Medical for a fitness evaluation to determine when he can come back to work._

**Fallen Chapter 2 – Earlier That Day**

The arrow flew faster than the eye could follow. It sped past the target about a foot high and buried itself six inches into the wall.

"Oops." Steve Rogers scratched his head sheepishly. That was the third arrow he'd sent into the wall, none of them close to each other.

Clint Barton frowned thoughtfully, then shrugged. "You're just too strong, Steve. I'd need to find a whole new way to string a compound bow to get the right draw for you."

"And then the arrow would go through a steel door," Bruce Banner commented. He was impressed by the deeply embedded arrows (and a little smug that he had hit the target twice, if only in the outer ring).

"I hate to tell you, but that wasn't nearly my full strength," Steve pointed out. "I was afraid the bow would snap if I pulled harder."

"That might be part of the problem, too," Natasha Romanoff told Clint. "He can't get any real control if he has to be so delicate."

Clint nodded while Steve went to pull his straying arrows out of the gymnasium wall.

"Tell me again why we're doing this?" Tony Stark complained, while he fiddled with the beginner's bow that Clint had given him. Tony had spent half the week doing meetings and PR and just when he thought he could escape to his lab to work on the six projects clamoring in his head, his team had dragged him to this bonding exercise. He was, frankly, as fidgety and cranky as a 2-year-old who didn't get his nap. Natasha was ready to slit his throat to stop his whining.

"We're just familiarizing ourselves with each other weapons, Stark," Natasha snapped. "We spent three hours last week listening to you rhapsodize about your repulsors. You can spend an hour learning how to hold a bow."

"But it's so archaic. It's older than Spangles!" Tony said.

"Gee, thanks," said the Super Soldier who was technically 90 years old, though he looked 25.

"I mean," Tony continued. "What can you do with a bow and arrow that you can't do just as well with a gun and bullets?"

Tony could handle guns. He was a former weapons manufacturer, after all.

Natasha muttered something about using Tony to exhibit her Widow's Bite taser bracelets when it was her turn to demonstrate.

As befits a sniper, Clint was more patient with his work-deprived friend. "I use a gun, Tony. You know that, but sometimes the bow is better. For one thing, it's quieter than the best silencer and I have yet to see a grappling hook bullet."

"But it's so distinctive," Tony pointed out. "Use an arrow and everyone knows you're the assas ... yowtch!"

Playing with the bow, Tony accidentally released the string, which sent the arrow sideways. The bowstring snapped back, missed the protective bow guard entirely and slapped his wrist hard enough to leave a welt. Tony yelped and dropped the bow as if it was on fire. He clutched his stinging wrist.

"It bit me! I'm not touching it again!" he vowed.

"Come on, Tony," Clint coaxed.

"I think I'm with Tony on this one," Steve said from across the room.

Everyone looked and saw the misfired arrow sticking out of Steve's side. Tony gasped. Bruce started forward.

"Relax," the Super Soldier said. "It's just caught in my shirt. It didn't have any force behind it."

When Steve moved, the arrow sagged, dragging at the side of his button-down shirt. Steve levered it out, frowning at the rip, and submitted to an examination by Bruce. The team's medical expert lifted the hem of Steve's T-shirt. There was a tiny scratch on Steve's side, already healing thanks to the Super Soldier serum. The arrow might have done more damage to a normal man, but it just glanced off Captain America's super dense muscles.

"See, no harm done. But I think Tony's had enough bows and arrows," Steve said with a smile.

Tony sat on an exercise cycle, fanning himself with relief.

"It's a good thing Coulson had his appointment with medical today," Natasha said in slightly malicious payback for Tony's whining.

"Yeah." Clint chided. "Damaging his hero. You'd have killed Phil all over again."

Bruce patted Tony's shoulder in consolation and Steve squeezed the other shoulder. "No harm done," Steve repeated, because Tony looked truly shaken. "Let's take a break ..."

The Avengers assembly alarm began to sound. Jarvis announced that Director Fury was on the line and news reports said men in jeeps with machine guns were terrorizing Brooklyn.

"... or not," Steve finished. "Brooklyn!" He rushed for his uniform, ready to defend his hometown.

**To be continued**


	3. Assemble

**Chapter 3 – Assemble**

The Avengers collected their gear while Jarvis piped Fury's voice into the locker room.

The director explained that a group of mercenaries were racing through the streets of Brooklyn in jeeps with machine guns mounted on the backs. They were shooting up the community apparently at random.

"Might be a diversion for some kind of raid," Natasha suggested. "We need to keep an eye on high end targets."

"Banks," Clint suggested. "Jewelry stores, electronics stores."

"Or companies with critical information," Tony offered. "There's a credit card clearinghouse in that neighborhood."

"But machine guns — doesn't that seem like something the police can handle, or the army?" Bruce asked. He was always a little nervous to get in the middle of a police or army operation. He worried that the Hulk would overreact.

"If it was just machine guns, you would be right, doctor," Fury replied.

He threw a new image on the screens. The machine gunner shifted a lever on his weapon and it began spewing small globes that looked like glowing paintballs, but these things dissolved bowling-ball-sized holes in anything they hit.

"Disintegrators," Cap said flatly. "Nobody's equipped to handle that."

"Not even us," Tony said. "But Brucie and I will have it figured out by the time we get there," he said optimistically. Jarvis was already analyzing the sensor readings.

Steve had been studying the map of the community. "We need to herd them into this area," he said, using his finger to outline an area on the edge of the battlefield. "The buildings have all been abandoned so they can build a shopping mall. There's no one there to get hurt."

"How did you know that?" Clint asked curiously, after SHIELD confirmed the captain's assessment.

"That's the neighborhood where I grew up," Steve said sourly. "There was only a little bit left that I remembered. Now the rest of it is due to be wiped out."

"Sorry, man," Clint said sincerely, as they all ran toward the quinjet.

Steve just shrugged.

* * *

Iron Man jetted ahead of the quinjet, but was still part of the planning over the radio.

"Are you taking position on the hotel?" Captain America asked Hawkeye.

"No, it's the tallest building, but it's at the far end of our combat zone and it's all alone, so I wouldn't have any mobility. I'm going to the cell tower beside the department store. It's almost as tall as the hotel, but I have more exit routes."

Originally built as a TB sanitarium, the hotel was where Steve's mother had worked and died. In the prosperous 1950s, the building was revamped as a luxury hotel and began a slow decline.

The dilapidated hotel stood alone, surrounded by once verdant grounds, now mostly dead grass and unkempt trees. Across the street from the hotel's entrance was a row of three-story shops, so Clint had options if he needed to move.

"We'll have backup from SHIELD, but we're taking point," Cap reminded everyone.

"Right, we knock them down and the men in black drag their sorry carcasses away," Tony said cheerfully.

"Sounds like a plan," Clint agreed. Natasha just nodded. She didn't want to encourage Tony because she was still peeved with him.

Everybody knew what to do. Bruce closed his eyes, trying to impress their strategy on the Hulk. He felt the Other Guy's grumbling in the back of his mind that he understood. "Smash jeeps. Chase them into smashing ground."

In the lull between finishing their plan and arriving in Brooklyn, Tony cleared his throat. "So, about the bow and arrow."

"I don't blame you ..." Cap started.

"Not that," Tony interrupted. "I was thinking you could ask Thor to bring a bow back from Asgard. I mean, when he gets back this time, you can ask him to bring one back next time," Tony clarified, which only proved how anxious he still was.

"That's a good idea," Clint said. "If it's strong enough for a Norse god, it ought to be strong enough for a Super Soldier."

"Occasionally, I believe you really are a genius, Stark," Black Widow said with approval.

And Tony knew he was forgiven all around.

"And Jarvis has good news, Cap. The disintegrator pulses won't affect vibranium. Your shield should reflect them just like the regular bullets."

"Ooh, I bet that'll be a surprise," Clint gloated.

* * *

It sure seemed to be.

One gunner gleefully fired a barrage at Captain America, but didn't look half so happy when the glowing globes returned in a swath that disintegrated the whole side of his jeep. The vehicle tipped over and slid to a halt in a shower of sparks, spilling gunner and driver into the street where SHIELD agents ran to restrain them. The agents had to duck away again, diving for cover when a second jeep raced by, firing bullets.

Hulk leaped between the agents and the jeep. Machine gun shells bounced off the tough green hide like Ping-Pong balls. Hulk roared defiance as the jeep sped past.

"Good job, Hulk," Steve praised. "But don't let those glowing balls touch you."

Hulk wrinkled his nose at Cap and huffed. "Hulk not stupid!"

"Sorry, big guy, I know you're not. I just worry," Cap apologized.

The jeep raced back. This time the gunner jacked up the disintegrator barrel. Hulk tore a strip of asphalt off the street and threw it at the jeep. The disintegrator globes tore holes in the asphalt, but not enough. The driver tried to turn, but the heavy strip hit the jeep like a flying wall. One glance at the carnage was enough. SHIELD would have to collect those two attackers in a bucket. The agents settled for carting off the first two for questioning.

"Cap not worry," Hulk said.

Steve grinned at his big comrade. "All right. Let's chase these guys over to the hotel," he pointed to make sure Hulk understood.

"Smashing ground," Hulk agreed.

Cap raised his shield and Hulk raised what was left of the first jeep as his own shield. Side by side, they ran at the enemy.

Having seen what the two Avengers could do, six of the drivers fled away from them, but two others tried to circle around to get behind Hulk and Cap. The street erupted in front of the wayward jeeps.

Iron Man zipped past, repulsors blasting. "Naughty boys. No back-shooting," Tony chided. "That's my gig." As he passed the two jeeps, he flipped on his back and fired from his palms. Rear tires exploded and one jeep bucked into the air like a bronco, throwing its occupants into the street.

The other gunner tried to bring his weapon to bear on the fast moving Avenger, but one of Iron Man's tiny shoulder missiles blew the jeep right out from under him. It was a neat take down, designed to leave the people intact, but the disintegrator gun exploded. A blue glow enveloped the jeep and it was gone, along with the driver, the gunner and a hemisphere of pavement.

"Oops," Tony said to Jarvis, but he wasn't drastically upset about killing murderous mercenaries who had been taking potshots at civilians. On the open channel he told the other Avengers, "Hey, guys, if you can make the disintegrator explode, you'll destroy the whole jeep. But don't be standing too close when you do."

"I gotta try that," Clint said enthusiastically.

He and Natasha had taken up positions in the demolition zone. Cap, Hulk and Iron Man were herding the enemy right to him.

When the last of the six fleeing jeeps crossed the boundary line, Clint loosed an explosive arrow that landed at the base of the disintegrator gun. "Jump!" the gunner shouted. He and the driver bailed, just before the arrow exploded and the blue light flared. The gouge out of the pavement effectively blocked the street behind them. Now the only way out of the kill zone was on foot.

"Nice," Clint said in appreciation of the light show.

A series of precisely placed gunshots came out of the shadows, aimed at another passing jeep. They hit what would have been the magazine, if the disintegrator had fired shells. Most of the bullets ricocheted in various directions, wounding the gunner and grazing the driver, then one punched through the cylinder. The blue light flared and the jeep vanished, except for a bumper that tumbled along the road.

"Nice one, Natasha," Clint complimented his unseen partner.

"Flatterer," the feminine voice replied.

* * *

Snow began to fall as the Avengers followed the enemy jeeps toward the abandoned area.

Cap could run faster than most, but he fell behind Hulk and the speeding Iron Man. Tony was almost to the designated battleground when his sensors detected a threat behind him. He instantly reversed course, calling, "Cap! Behind you! One of them was shielded!"

Steve dropped, rolled over one shoulder and spun, coming to his feet crouched with his shield up. Machine gun fire made the vibranium disk ring.

His communicator already lost, Hulk hadn't heard Iron Man's warning, but he recognized the sound of bullets ricocheting off the shield.

He whirled and threw the half jeep over Cap's head. It slammed into the attacking vehicle. Before the enemy could recover from the impact. Steve was on them, kicking left as he leaped, slamming his shield to the right at the same time.

He paused one moment to make sure the men were out, then someone was on him!

A big green hand snatched him up by the scruff of the neck. Hulk deposited his leader on his shoulder.

"Cap too slow," Hulk snorted, turning back to the demolished area.

Steve caught hold of a scrap of Bruce's shirt still somehow clinging to the expanded form.

"Sorry, Hulk, we're not all as big and strong as you are," the Super Soldier said.

Tony laughed at the quip and stuck closer to his ground-bound friends until Hulk leaped over the ruined pavement into the Avenger's chosen battleground.

"The gang's all here," Hawkeye reported to Black Widow. "Now we'll close the trap."

* * *

The leader of the mercenaries rubbed his hands in glee. The greater part of his force was concealed behind energy screens on the hotel grounds, ready to strike the unsuspecting heroes.

"The Avengers have done as expected," gloated Dr. Demonic. "Now we will close the trap."

**TBC**


	4. Trap

**Chapter 4 – Trap**

Just when the Avengers thought they'd corralled the last of the mercenaries, more burst from behind energy screens.

"It's a trap!" Clint shouted from his vantage point.

"It's supposed to be a trap, birdbrain!" Tony retorted. His speed had carried him beyond visual range. Jarvis' sensors set him straight even as Natasha answered.

"It's a trap for us!"

Natasha rolled into view, just as her cover dissolved in a hail of glowing globes. The barrage followed her as she sprang to her feet and dodged. Then Cap was there, vibranium shield reflecting the disintegrator balls back at the enemy, where they chewed holes in the attacking jeeps. Those that could spun away, to circle around the hotel. They didn't get far. Arrows seemed to sprout from their hoods. One, two, three! Three explosions sounded as one.

"Leave my partner alone," the angry Hawkeye muttered.

Half a dozen of the no-longer-concealed jeeps were beyond the damaged pavement. They couldn't attack the Avengers, so they whirled back toward town.

"Hulk! Stop them!" Cap roared.

Hulk had punched out one jeep, driving his fist clear through the engine block, ignoring the bullets the gunner sent his way. The gunner frantically shifted to the disintegrator but the mammoth green form folded the front of the jeep up and over, crushing the front seat that the driver had wisely abandoned and ripping the platform out from under the gunner. The man scrambled to his feet and ran after his partner.

Hulk started after them, but turned when he heard Cap's call. He flipped falling snow out of his eyes and saw the jeeps racing back toward the town. He roared and bounded after the bad guys, clearing the barrier ditch in one bound.

Iron Man had been circling the hotel blasting at jeeps that were trying to flank his friends. He made a strafing run, repulsors taking out a swath of the enemy while mini-missiles rained down on the ones to either side.

When he heard Cap's command to Hulk, he shot up high to see the action, then hurtled off to back up Hulk on a flight path that would take him over the abandoned hotel.

* * *

Just outside the main entrance of the hotel, the final energy screen dissolved to reveal an armored Hummer hitched to a trailer that held a huge artillery gun with a bulbous projection on its barrel.

Gathering snow shifted and fell, as the weapon tracked Iron Man.

"Now!" Dr. Demonic exclaimed to himself. He pulled the lever.

* * *

The mad scientist's EMP weapon was four-fifths of an epic fail. Hulk didn't notice the pulse, as he ran down fleeing enemy jeeps one by one. Captain America flipped away his squealing earpiece and continued slinging his shield at the machine gunners riding the backs of two racing jeeps.

Black Widow's Taser bracelets shorted out, but they were well insulated, so it was just a minor annoyance. Unharmed, she ignored the brief sparking and kept up precision firing with her handguns, taking down the mercenaries who had been "unhorsed," by Cap's shield and Clint's arrows.

The EMP wrung a curse from Hawkeye, when his automatic quiver stopped working, but he had plenty of experience with low-tech quivers and was only slightly slower choosing arrows by hand.

So, Dr. Demonic's secret weapon was four-fifths an epic fail, but the other fifth was a screaming success.

* * *

Aimed specifically at Iron Man, the electromagnetic pulse blasted out, invisible except for a distortion in the air as it passed.

Jarvis' sensors saw it coming and recognized the danger. The pulse radius was too wide. There was no chance to avoid it. Jarvis slammed power into emergency protocols.

"Oh boy," Tony muttered, realizing what was coming.

The suit aimed itself at the nearest landing point, the roof of the condemned, eight-story hotel.

The pulse hit. Iron Man's systems sparked and sputtered. Tony's connection with Jarvis stuttered. Repulsors fired erratically, throwing off the angle of approach. The AI saw that the suit would hit the building, not land on it. Jarvis fought to compensate. The suit's arms stretched out, hands curved to catch and all the systems locked up, as the power failed.

Trapped inside the falling metal shell, Tony watched the building hurtle closer.

"Oh shit, this is going to smart," he said aloud, though even Jarvis couldn't hear him. He hit the wall of the hotel. It was a jarring crash, but his hands hooked neatly over the brick wall around the roof of the building. (Jarvis had impeccable aim.)

The resounding crash sent cracks radiating through the brick wall and attracted the attention of three Avengers. Hulk was too far away to notice what was happening back at the hotel, but Cap and Natasha on the ground and Hawkeye on the roof of a building down the block saw Iron Man dangling, powerless, while the mad scientist, Dr. Demonic, celebrated.

"I did it!" he exulted.

Dr. Demonic had been hired to steal the Iron Man armor. Killing Tony Stark would add another million dollars to the billion-dollar bounty.

The scientist had planned carefully. He used Captain America's known fondness for Brooklyn to lure the Avengers into his trap and set up Iron Man for the kill shot. But he made a few errors.

The first was thinking the Avengers would be easy prey without their tech.

The second mistake was not realizing that more than half his troops had been taken out before he fired the pulse.

His final mistake was standing between Captain America and the weapon still aimed at Cap's helpless friend.

* * *

Dr. Demonic jumped up on the artillery gun trailer. Loyal troops stood around him, guarding him and blocking the entrance to the condemned hotel. "I did it! I killed Iron Man!" Dr. Demonic cried, raising his fists in triumph.

"No!" Cap yelled in horror and anger.

Iron Man was still hanging on, though the Super Soldier could plainly see the brick beginning to crumble. He needed to get to the hotel roof, and Dr. Demonic, his bodyguards and his EMP gun were in the way.

Kind, honorable Captain America believed in law and justice and bringing in criminals to be tried by the appropriate legal system. But he had been a soldier first and soldiers are trained to kill.

Scowling fiercely, Cap threw his shield with all his might to destroy the EMP controls. Dr. Demonic didn't get out of the way. Spinning like a buzz saw, the shield scythed through the mad scientist and buried itself in the EMP controls. Demonic's head rolled across the pavement, still wearing an expression of triumph, while his body toppled amid his ineffective bodyguards. Angered, they aimed their disintegrators at Cap, but the EMP controls sparked, then exploded behind them. They were flung to the ground and the shield was flung back at Cap. He caught it on the run, ignoring the scorch marks and the slimy covering of blood.

Cap barreled toward the hotel entrance, slamming aside the one man who had regained his feet. Not caring that he was leaving enemies at his back, Cap charged up the stairs to save his friend.

* * *

Three of the bodyguards regrouped.

"We'll never catch him," one gasped, remembering the blue streak that had passed.

"Fire up the stairs," another ordered. "Bring the whole stairway down and Captain Damn America with it!"

They raised their disintegrator rifles as one.

The Black Widow came from behind like the shadow of death. She slashed with her knife and the men could consider themselves lucky that she went for the hamstring and not the jugular. With cries of pain, two men fell, unable to stand. The third managed to turn, getting a painful but not debilitating cut across the shin. He struck at his attacker with the butt of his rifle. With a smirk of amusement, Natasha whirled with the attack, using her momentum and body weight to wrench the rifle from the gunman's grasp. She continued her spin around him and struck the back of his head with the butt of his own gun.

He dropped and then Natasha knocked the other two unconscious with the thoughtfully provided gun butt. Stepping fastidiously around Dr. Demonic's severed head, she checked his other bodyguards and zip-tied any that were still alive.

A crunching crack sounded above her. She dodged back, under the archway and looked up to see the brick wall give way and Iron Man fall.

* * *

Cap charged up the stairs and burst onto the roof. Going too fast, his foot slipped on the snow. He dropped to hands and knees. Leaving his shield, he lurched forward. His reaching hand touched Iron Man's fingertips on the low wall. The feather-light touch was the last straw for the cracked and abused wall. It crumbled and Tony dropped. Cap's off-balance lunge missed and Iron Man plummeted toward the pavement below.

Tony caught a glimpse of Steve's horrified face, then all he could see was the wall rushing past at sickening speed.

Steve saw Iron Man falling faster than the snowflakes, but the scene was blurred together with images of Bucky falling from a hurtling train. Tony, Bucky, Tony, Bucky — two friends that Captain America had failed.

Trapped in a nightmare maze of memories, Steve didn't see Hawkeye's astounding rescue.

* * *

When Tony's hands snagged on the wall, Clint's sharp eyes recognized the battered brick and mortar was likely to fail. Shrugging his bow on his back, he swung down from his perch and ran headlong across the roofs, leaping an alley and sliding down a drainpipe to reach a better vantage point on the roof of an empty store.

He pulled all his arrows from his disabled quiver and screwed on penetrating points as fast as he could. The roof of the hotel was higher than the roof Hawkeye was on. He saw Cap run into the building, but couldn't see him reach the roof. Still, he was ready when Iron Man fell.

He loosed his strongest arrow, the Talon. It hit the building beneath the falling superhero. The shaft caught Iron Man in the fork of his legs, in a way that would have really hurt if Tony hadn't been wearing titanium alloy. The metal shaft broke under the armor's weight, but slowed Iron Man's fall a fraction. The suit tilted to the right, but Clint fired again and Iron Man's shoulder hit a shaft, tilting him back the other way and again slowing the fall. Clint was already firing another arrow and another, tilting Iron Man back and forth like a pinball, guiding him to his left and finishing with a blunt tip to the heel that laid Iron Man on his back. Tony crashed down flat, spreading the impact over the only patch of scrubby bushes left in front of the condemned hotel.

Natasha was there in an instant, having watched the whole remarkable descent. She pulled the emergency release for the face plate and checked for a pulse on Tony's neck. She waved at Hawkeye, giving the sign for "He's alive."

In Clint's relief, he did a little jig and pumped his fist, "Boo yah! Let's see you do that with bullets!" he exulted.

In his triumphant excitement and his hurry to get to his injured friend, Hawkeye missed seeing what no one had seen before — Captain America running away.

**TBC**

_A/N: Action this time. Angst next time. Wasn't Clint awesome?_


	5. Fallen

**Chapter 5 – Fallen**

Natasha crouched by the unconscious Tony. The man was deeply unconscious, but Natasha was reassured by his even breathing and the steady gleam of his arc reactor. Doubly protected by the Iron Man suit and it's own shielding, the arc reactor was the only electronic device to survive the massive EMP strike.

"We need Medical," Natasha called, when Clint dropped to the sidewalk across the street.

Clint waved and ran back to the populated area that had been the attackers' first target. He knew where Jasper intended to set up his command post, but hoped he didn't have to run that far.

The archer realized he was following a trail of smashed jeeps. The Hulk's signature was plain — a fist print in a hood or once a double footprint, crushing the engine into the pavement, leaving the front wheels splayed out and backs wheels in the air, spinning slowly. If there had been any bodies, they had been taken away.

Clint climbed over the crushed and abandoned jeep into the remarkably undamaged bodega behind it. Inside, several people cowered behind the counter. The storeowner stood firmly, with a shotgun in his hands. Fortunately, he recognized Hawkeye. Though Clint's face wasn't well known, the bow-carrying, quiver-wearing archer was identifiable as an Avenger.

"I think it's all over, folks," Clint said. "Best to stay inside a little longer, though. Anyone got a phone I can use?"

Six people held up cellphones, but they were all dead.

"Landline?" Clint asked the storeowner hopefully.

The man pulled the phone from beside the cash register. Holding his breath, Clint picked up the receiver and almost cheered when he heard a dial tone.

"And that's two points for low tech, Tony," he muttered to himself as he dialed.

* * *

"SHIELD, how many I direct your call?" said a saccharine voice on the phone.

"This is Barton." He knew a voiceprint would identify him, but he added a code phrase as per protocol. "An EMP took out our communications. I need medical assistance at the hotel." He rattled off the address. "And I need communicators."

The bright young voice on the phone now sounded firm and competent. "One moment. We still have communication with the ground crew." After a few seconds to relay the message, the voice came back. "Medical is on the way. Agent Sitwell has been notified and teams are being sent in for cleanup."

"Thanks."

Clint hung up, handed the phone back and plunked a couple of twenties on the counter. He grabbed a first aid kit, a bottle of isopropyl alcohol from a shelf and an armful of water bottles.

"Thanks, guys," he said, as he jogged out.

"No, thank you," a woman called after him.

"And thank the Hulk for us," the storeowner added. "The guys were just about to blast us then he landed on that jeep with both green feet."

"I'm sure it was his pleasure," Clint answered. "He hates Army stuff."

* * *

Natasha was glad to get the first aid kit, particularly the gauze and the alcohol. Tony's head wound continued to bleed — head wounds are like that — and she didn't have anything clean to wipe it off. She dabbed at the wound, then pressed on it to control the bleeding. Clint wiped Tony's face, but the man didn't stir.

Iron Man looked odd, frozen in his armor with his arms outstretched, lying on a half-dead hedge as if it were a mattress.

"I don't want to move him any more than I have to," she said when Clint commented on the pose just to have something to say.

"How bad is he?" Clint asked.

"Concussion for sure," Natasha answered. "But I don't feel any skull damage and his vitals aren't bad, considering he should be dead."

* * *

Natasha and Clint kept watch over their fallen comrade, just in case some henchman had escaped the carnage. If any had, they focused on escaping instead of taking revenge, because no one bothered the three Avengers.

In the distance, Clint and Natasha could hear the Hulk roaring. Probably encouraging those henchmen to keep running.

Under Jasper Sitwell's command, SHIELD agents flooded the area, taking prisoners into custody and carefully confiscating the remaining disintegrator guns and the oversized EMP cannon. Medics ran to help Iron Man. Smithy and Amber had worked with the Avengers before.

Smithy handed Clint a couple of communicators, then joined Amber in checking over Tony. He didn't respond to a gentle touch, not even to them shining the evil penlight into his eyes, but a pinch on the earlobe made him wince.

"Vitals look pretty good," Amber said. "We'll know more when we get him out of the suit."

"Do you want to do that here?" Natasha asked. The Avengers knew how to remove the armor.

"Better to do it in Medical under controlled conditions," Smithy suggested. Amber agreed.

Clint and Natasha went with them. After flying the short distance to SHIELD headquarters in New York, the two Avengers helped the medical staff remove the armor.

Tony started to come around, as they manhandled him onto an examining table.

"Easy, pal," Clint said, resting a hand on Tony's shoulder. "You're in SHIELD Medical. The battle's over. We won."

"Mm, that's Cap's line," Tony mumbled. He squinted in pain, then his eyes flew wide open and just as quickly slammed shut. He groaned, but ground out around the pain, "Cap. Where's Steve?"

Clint and Natasha exchanged glances. They'd been focused on Tony and hadn't even considered their other teammates.

"We're not sure," Clint admitted. "We lost communications because of the EMP."

"We assumed he went after Hulk," Natasha said. That would have been normal procedure.

"Find him. He was on the roof when I fell. He looked …" Tony's rattled mind didn't have words for the nightmarish expression on Captain America's face. "He looked … bad," the injured man finished lamely.

The burst of energy had worn Tony out. His voice faded. "Find Steve," he whispered.

The two Avengers hesitated to leave him alone, but Pepper arrived just then. They were content to leave their teammate in her efficient, but loving hands.

* * *

Clint and Natasha reactivated their communicators as soon as they left the sensitive equipment of the medical section. They received an incoming call almost immediately.

"I found something that belongs to you," Jasper Sitwell reported.

The agents thought, Cap!, but it was Bruce's voice that came next, thick with weariness and woefully confused.

"Guys? What happened? Is everyone all right?" He was concerned because someone on the team always went after Hulk to make sure Bruce didn't end up wandering the streets dazed and half-naked. This time it was Sitwell who bravely talked the Hulk down and who wrapped a blanket around the shivering Banner.

"Tony crashed, but he's going to be OK," Clint said quickly. "Nat and I brought him to Medical."

"Pepper's with him now," Natasha added in reassurance.

"I should come," Bruce said, but his friends could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

"Bruce, you need to go back to the Tower and rest," Natasha said firmly. "You can call Dr. Kiel from there. She'll have a full evaluation by then."

"OK," Bruce surrendered.

"We'll get him home," Sitwell promised the agents.

"Jasper, there's something else," Clint said hesitantly. "Have you seen Cap?"

There was silence on the other end of the line. They knew Jasper was checking with his people. "No. No one's seen Captain Rogers," Sitwell reported. "Is something wrong?"

"We don't know," Natasha answered. "We haven't seen him since he ran into the hotel to try to get to Stark."

"Stark said he 'looked bad,'" Clint offered. "We don't know if he's hurt or what."

"Might be nothing," Sitwell tried to reassure them. "He might be helping some civilians or rounding up stray bad guys and he can't report in because of the EMP."

"Sure, you're probably right," Clint said, more to reassure Bruce than because he believed it. "Natasha and I are going back to his last known position to start looking for him. Boy, will we bawl him out when we see him."

"You're not fooling anyone, Barton," Bruce said sternly.

"Go home, Bruce," Natasha said gently. "Cap might call in there and Jarvis can't relay a message when Iron Man is out."

That might not be true, either, but it was a little more convincing than Clint's bubbly optimism. And Bruce had to admit his legs were about to give out. Hulk must have done a lot of running during this battle.

He agreed to go back to the Tower while Sitwell apologized that SHIELD couldn't drop everything to help in the search for Captain America. They were spread thin collecting the superweapons, taking the henchmen into custody and rescuing trapped civilians.

"But we'll keep an eye out," he promised.

"All right. We're on our way back," Clint said.

The agents jogged through the halls to the quinjet pad. Phil Coulson was waiting for them there, arms crossed. He looked dreadfully pale — he had gone through an exacting series of physical tests. And he looked awfully pissed — because Medical had deliberately failed to inform him that the Avengers had gone into battle. Now Iron Man was hurt and Captain America was missing and the Avengers handler was quietly furious.

"You should go back to the Tower," Natasha told him, but wasn't surprised when he shook his head.

"No. Give me a hand."

She helped him into the quinjet. He handed her a new cellphone already programmed to the number of the one fried by the EMP. He had one for Clint, too. Always thinking ahead, that's why Phil was the best handler.

They quickly flew back to Brooklyn, then commandeered a SHIELD van to go back to the hotel. Coulson agreed to wait in the van, mostly because he knew he couldn't climb nine flights of stairs to the snow-covered roof.

* * *

The two SHIELD agents found Cap's discarded shield in the snow on the hotel's roof. Clint picked it up and turned it over and over in his hands.

"Natasha," he said hesitantly. "You don't think Steve could have been hit by one of those disintegrator globes, do you?"

His partner's expression proved that even the stoic Black Widow could be horrified by the unthinkable. She shook off the dread.

"The globes weren't neat," she said forcefully, as if to convince herself, too. "They'd have left a sign on the roof." Either a gouge out of the roof or leftover bits of Captain America, but she didn't want to say that!

"Right. Silly thought," Clint said bravely. "But he must be hurt or he'd gone after Tony or Bruce."

"Right," Natasha said firmly. "I'll call Sitwell. I don't care about rounding up flunkies, we need to organize a search."

* * *

Bruce was worried about his wounded and MIA teammates, but his actions as the Hulk had left him exhausted, starving and woefully underdressed for the cold and snowy weather. When Natasha ordered him back to the Tower to recuperate, the weary scientist did not have the strength to argue with the Black Widow. He couldn't do anything for Tony, who was in a proper hospital with Pepper at his side and Clint and Natasha were searching for Captain America.

Bruce waved goodbye to his SHIELD transportation, then went in from the Tower's flight deck. He headed toward the kitchen, needing food before he crashed.

Something moved in the shadows of the Assembly room. Bruce took a step back in alarm, then fought to slow his pounding heart when a figure loomed out of the darkness.

"Steve! You startled me," he exclaimed.

The Super Soldier didn't respond. He lurched unsteadily, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. Bruce saw his uniform was filthy and torn, stained with blood from wounds that were already scabbed over. When Steve took his hands away from his face, his eyes looked haunted.

The doctor in Bruce surged to the fore. "Steve, are you alright?" he stepped forward and caught one of the taller man's arms.

As he got closer, Bruce could hear Cap muttering about failure. "Just like Bucky," he said brokenly, tears in his eyes. "I can't do this again. I can't."

His eyes met Bruce's and the scientist saw recognition and something else — something he'd seen in his own eyes in the mirror. He saw a longing for oblivion, a will to self-destruction. Despite his rambling words, Steve knew Bruce and recognized that if anything could kill Captain America, it was the Hulk.

Cap drew back his fist to strike.

**TBC**

* * *

_A/N: Did you think the title "Fallen" just referred to Tony?_


	6. Nightmare

**Chapter 6 – Nightmare**

If Steve hit him, Bruce was afraid the Hulk might not recognize a friend's distress. He might see Cap as an enemy and strike back, putting the blood of a friend on Bruce's hands.

"Steve," Bruce choked. "Don't do this," he begged. "I don't want to hurt you."

The fist hesitated. Steve's eyes widened. His hand dropped onto Bruce's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he sobbed. He folded forward, sagging against the smaller man. Bruce staggered backwards, dragging his unconscious friend to the couch. With a grunt of effort, he turned Cap on his back and let his upper body fall on the couch, then Bruce lifted Cap's feet up, making the man as comfortable as he could.

Bruce felt for a pulse, which seemed normal, but he wasn't sure what that meant. The Super Soldier usually was either gravely wounded or in perfect health; this mental crisis was something new. Bruce wasn't sure whether Steve's pulse should be racing in agitation or slowing in unconsciousness.

At the moment, he seemed to be normally asleep, though not peacefully, judging by his furrowed brow, restless shifting and occasional mutters.

Bruce used his fingers to comb Steve's sweaty blond hair out of his eyes, then he backed away slowly and quietly.

Stepping out of the room, he asked Jarvis to call Barton on his phone, not through SHIELD communications.

"I found him," he told Clint when he answered. "He's back at the tower."

"That's a relief." Natasha said near enough for the phone to pick up.

"Is he alright?" Clint asked.

"Is anyone else listening?" Bruce asked.

There was a pause. Bruce imagined the two SHIELD agents studying their vicinity and probably giving each other surprised looks.

"No," Clint cautiously answered after a moment.

"What's wrong?" Natasha hissed. "Is he hurt?"

"He looks ... bad," Bruce said.

Clint growled at this repetition of the same vague description Stark had given them. "What does that mean? Does he need a doctor?"

Bruce pictured Captain America locked up, experimented on. It was Bruce's own worst nightmare and he wouldn't inflict it on Cap.

"No, no doctor," he said forcefully. "I can't explain. Can you come? Just you. No SHIELD," Bruce almost begged.

After a pause long enough for one of Clint and Natasha's nonverbal debates, Clint answered, "On our way."

Clint licked his lips, then coolly called Sitwell. "Jasper, you can call off the search. Cap's back at the Tower."

"Is he all right?" Sitwell asked, because Steve would never just walk out without a word. Clint wasn't sure how to answer. Natasha leaned close.

"He's a little beat up," she told Sitwell truthfully, because they all were. "Bruce is with him."

"OK, give us a call if you need more medical help," Sitwell accepted.

"Will do," Clint answered.

The partners began jogging toward the SHIELD vehicles, but a police car intercepted them.

"Get in," Coulson ordered.

Coulson's face was pale and his hands trembled, partly from his strenuous therapy session and partly in anger because everyone at SHIELD medical had concealed the fact that the Avengers were in the middle of a battle. Their handler didn't know anything about it until Tony was brought in on a stretcher. Now Clint and Natasha were trying to hide things from him, too. But he knew them too well to be fooled by their conversation with Sitwell. Something had happened to Captain America and Coulson was going to find out what.

"Get in," he repeated. "And tell me what's really going on."

"Are you cleared to drive?" Natasha said sharply.

"Yes," Coulson answered calmly.

"Are you authorized to drive a police car?" Clint asked, looking at the black and white vehicle.

"Probably not," Coulson answered. "So I'd appreciate it if you would get in before someone comes to claim it."

With no further words, Natasha and Clint leaped in and Coulson took off at speed in his usual understated way, with the bubble light flashing, but no siren.

* * *

When the three SHIELD agents entered Stark Tower, Jarvis gave them quiet directions to the Assembly Room. They found Cap lying on the couch still in his torn and bloodied uniform. Bruce was sitting in near darkness reading on a StarkPad.

"Do you know about Sgt. Bucky Barnes?" Bruce asked quietly.

Coulson did, of course. "He was Steve's best friend, one of the Howling Commandos. He was killed during the war, not long before the mission where Cap went missing."

"Do you know how Barnes died?" Bruce asked. "He fell from a train into a snowy ravine. Steve tried to catch him but couldn't get to him in time."

They all realized that was awfully similar — emphasis on the awful — to what had happened with Tony today.

"So, what? A flashback?" Phil asked matter-of-factly.

"Something like that," Bruce said. "He seemed confused about then and now, but he knew me. He ..." It was almost too terrible to say out loud, but the others needed to know. "He almost hit me. I think he was hoping for suicide by Hulk."

* * *

A whimper like a kicked puppy came from the big man on the couch. Steve's cheeks were wet with tears. He began to thrash, crying out in grief. "No!"

Clint took a step forward.

Phil put out a hand. "Don't wake him," he warned.

The others watched in silence as Steve wrestled with his nightmares. They hated to see him suffering but were afraid to touch the powerful Super Soldier.

"We can't just stand here," Clint protested.

"He could kill you before he knew where he was," Phil answered.

"And then he'd never forgive himself," Bruce added.

"Better if I try than any of you," Clint said. "I'm less breakable …" He looked at Phil, leaning on his cane. "… and less likely to Hulk out." He didn't even have to look at Bruce for that one.

"I'm faster than you are," Natasha argued.

"I'm stronger and I can take a hit if I need to." Clint pulled away from Phil, but before he could take more than a step toward the Super Soldier, Steve's thrashing carried him off the couch. Jarred awake by the fall, but still lost in his nightmare, Steve lashed out at the nearest figure and sent Clint flying across the room with a backhand blow. The circus-trained archer knew how to relax into a fall, but still hit the wall with bruising force and dropped in a heap on the floor.

"Jarvis, play reveille!" Coulson snapped.

The AI came up trumps, not only blasting the bugle call but also projecting an image of the U.S. flag being raised. The soldier snapped to attention. His friends saw by the sag of his shoulders when he came fully to himself, but he held the salute until the song finished and the projected image faded as Jarvis turned the room lights on.

Steve turned his grief-ravaged face on his friends. Natasha stood protectively in front of Phil and Bruce with her knife out to defend them if Cap continued his rampage. No one knew what to say.

"Ow," commented the crumpled form on the floor.

"Clint." Steve's clotted voice was full of apology.

"I'm OK." Clint untangled himself and cautiously rose, testing his joints and finding himself mostly intact.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Steve would have fled, but the Avengers were between him and the door. Instead, Captain America crammed himself into the farthest corner, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor, hiding his face against the arms that he wrapped around his knees.

Clint stepped closer, moving as cautiously as if he was approaching a wild animal.

"Really, pal, I'm fine. Nat hurts me worse than that when we spar."

"Go away. Please," Steve begged without looking up.

"No." Leaning heavily on his cane, Phil limped to Steve's side. Using the cane for balance, he slid to a seat beside the Super Soldier. "No, we're not leaving you alone."

"Steve, PTSD is nothing to be ashamed of," Bruce said quietly.

"You're just one of the club here," Clint said with a valiant attempt at a joke.

"It's not …" Steve and Phil spoke at the same time.

Steve turned wild eyes on the man sitting right beside him. "I thought they weren't supposed to tell …"

"They don't," Phil said hastily. "Psych doesn't give me any details about your talks, but I'm your handler. I need to know the basics." He looked back at the others. "Steve doesn't have PTSD. None of you do."

Steve lowered his eyes to the floor. The others looked at Phil skeptically. "That was a flashback. I know flashbacks," Clint argued.

"Nightmares, flashbacks, anxiety — they're common in people who have suffered a traumatic event," Phil explained. "Yes, they're symptoms of PTSD, but it's not really considered PTSD unless it takes over your life. All of us have gone through trauma and all of us suffer aftereffects, but we are all able to carry on. One flashback does not mean PTSD."

"All right, but dreaming about the war is traumatic in itself," Bruce said.

"I don't dream about the war, not exactly," Steve said. "And I've always had these dreams. It's just that the subjects changed when I became Captain America."

"I don't understand," Bruce said quietly.

Steve didn't want to say it, but he gave Phil a look gave the handler permission to speak.

"Steve has anxiety dreams," Phil said. "He dreams about failure."

Clint couldn't believe it, Steve was Captain freaking America! How could he feel like a failure!

"The worst part is, the dreams are true," Steve said sullenly. He rubbed his teary face on his arm. "I was a failure when I was young, too small, too sickly to play, work, join the Army. Failure, always failure, and it didn't end when I became this." He indicated his muscular body with a dismissive gesture.

"But you ditched the plane, you sacrificed yourself to save the whole country!" Clint protested.

"It doesn't seem like that from where I am," Steve said bitterly. "I'm alive and everyone I knew is dead."

No one had any words to answer the pain in Steve's voice.

"Bucky is dead because I failed and now Tony is dead…"

**TBC**

_A/N: Can't really call that a cliffhanger, when you know what everyone is going to say._


	7. Trust

_A/N: Happy ending coming right up._

**Chapter 7 – Trust**

"Bucky is dead because I failed and now Tony is dead…"

"Whoa!" "What?" "Wait."

While the men stumbled over their shock, the woman cut straight to the point.

"Stark isn't dead," Natasha said flatly.

Steve's head snapped up. "He fell."

"Aw, Cap," Clint teased. "You mean you missed my great rescue?"

Natasha smacked him on the back of the head. Clint backed away, rubbing the pain.

"It was great," he protested. "You have to admit it."

Natasha gave a thoughtful expression, then tipped her head in acknowledgment. "It was pretty good," she admitted.

"Tony's not dead?" Steve said hopefully.

"He was awake at the hospital," Natasha said. "In fact, he was worried about you."

"Let's call Pepper and get an update," Clint suggested, already punching buttons on his phone.

The voice that answered wasn't Pepper.

"Yo, brbray, ssss'up?"

Fortunately, Clint was fluent in drugged incoherence. He translated Tony's slurred greeting as, "Yo, Birdbrain, what's up?"

"Stark, what are you doing with Pepper's phone?" Clint scolded in amusement.

"Dedriss." (Tetris)

"Give her the phone, will you?" Because Clint wanted to hear the truth about Tony's condition.

"No. Sleeping." Clint's ears had adjusted to the continued slurring.

"OK, how are you?"

"Fi-ine," Tony said as if singing.

Clint snorted. "How high are you?"

"Lookin' down on all the kites," Tony answered cheerfully. "Brain's OK. Lips are fuzzy."

Clint could believe that. Some of those morphine derivatives made his face, lips and tongue numb.

"Let Steve talk to him," Phil suggested.

Steve shook his head vigorously and sat on his hands. "No, not on the phone. I … No."

Tony heard the conversation in the background. "Stebe OK?"

"He thought you were dead," Clint said bluntly.

"Shid."

"He had a flashback," Clint said bluntly. He kept his eyes on Steve, but the Super Soldier didn't object. "To Barnes death," Clint finished.

Tears welled up in Steve's eyes. He rubbed his face with the back of his hand.

"He's still pretty shook up," Clint finished.

"Let me talk to him," Phil said, extending his hand for the phone.

Clint passed it over.

"Stark, let me talk to Pepper," Phil ordered.

"Buh, Dedris," Tony protested.

Phil was just as fluent in drugged incoherence (mostly because of Clint). "You can play your game later," he said firmly.

Tony grumbled but prodded Pepper until she opened her eyes and handed over the phone. She gave Phil a concise description of Tony's injuries along with the reassuring news that he was in no danger.

"So, concussion, badly bruised back — he needs to be in a wheelchair for a while but nothing permanent — and a severely bruised tailbone."

Phil and Nat looked at Clint who just shrugged. "Better than being dead," he said.

He looked at Steve who was looking happier, "So, Steve, let me tell you about the great rescue and why arrows beat bullets."

* * *

The Avengers were waiting when Tony rolled off the elevator in his triumphant return home. Pepper escorted him, but he maneuvered the wheelchair himself, rearing back and spinning in a wheelie. Barton whistled and clapped. Bruce and Natasha smiled. Steve hung back with remorse still strong on his face. Tony sighed internally, but kept a smile on his face and answered the others' questions.

"I've got a bruised tailbone," he said, shifting a little so they could see he was sitting on an inflated doughnut cushion. "And my legs are black and blue, so no standing for a long time or walking, that's the reason for Silver, here," he said, patting the wheelchair as if it was a faithful steed. "And you can see the rest." He held out his arms, which showed bruises and cuts, though hardly worse than caused by an intense session in his workshop. His left temple had a dressing on it, with a bruise peeking out from beneath it.

Everyone looked at Pepper for confirmation.

"Hey!" Tony protested.

"He's telling the truth," she told the others with a smile. "He's supposed to keep his feet elevated as much as possible to let the swelling go down. And he's supposed to rest because he has a concussion and an awful headache."

Tony made a gesture of disagreement. "I've had worse hangovers," he swore, thought he Avengers noticed his features seemed pinched, as if he was in pain.

"But he's not too bad, considering the seven-story fall," Pepper said. She went to Clint and kissed his cheek. "Thank you," she said in a hoarse whisper, as if she was fighting tears.

Clint kissed her hand in the continental manner. "I only did it for you," he vowed, batting his eyes at her to make her laugh. "I would do anything to win a smile from you," he said in his best Lothario voice.

"Hey!" Tony protested again.

Natasha slugged Clint in the ribs, forcing him to release Pepper.

"Thank you," Tony told her.

"Any time," she said sincerely.

Clint just chuckled because Pepper didn't look teary-eyed any more. Instead, she took charge, inviting the others to join her in the kitchen because Tony and Steve needed to talk.

As she passed the Super Soldier, she took his face in her two hands and pulled him down to look him straight in the eye. "You are the only one who blames you for any of this," she said firmly. "You are outvoted. The verdict is not guilty."

She kissed his cheek and led the others away.

Steve's shoulders remained slumped and his eyes stayed firmly on the floor. Tony regarded him with disquiet.

"She's right, you know," Tony said, then he shrugged. "She's always right! It wasn't your fault."

"I was too late," Steve said in distress. "I let you fall."

"You didn't 'let' anything," Tony corrected. "I fell. It was Dr. Demented that blasted me with his Supersized Taser — which means I need to improve my shielding, again! It's not on you, Steve. I don't blame you," Tony said earnestly. He held Steve's eyes. "And Bucky wouldn't have blamed you." Steve tried to look away, but Tony wouldn't let him. "Bucky Barnes was your friend. I'm your friend. Maybe someday you won't be able to get to me in time, but unless you grab me by the throat and throw me through a window, I won't blame you when I fall. OK?" Steve didn't answer. "OK?" Tony asked insistently.

"OK," Steve accepted. "Thanks."

Tony made a disparaging noise. "Nothing to thank me for. That's what friends do, or so I've been told. I've never been very good at the friend thing," he admitted.

"Could have fooled me."

The two friends shared a grin, then Tony nudged the wheelchair toward the steps that led down to the kitchen. "Give me a lift."

"What?"

"Put those Super Soldier muscles to work and carry me down the steps," Tony demanded.

Steve started to point out that there was a ramp just around the corner, but stopped when Tony met his eyes directly.

"Carry me," Tony said distinctly. "You won't drop me."

Oh, a test.

"I …" Steve was uncertain, but Tony was certain enough for both. He raised his eyebrows at Steve, who stiffened his spine.

"Right." Steve grabbed the wheelchair and lifted it, up — way up! — clear up to his shoulder, balancing it like an African villager balances a huge water jug.

Tony smothered a yelp and gave silent thanks for his 12-foot ceilings.

"OK up there?" Steve asked with his first genuine smile in two days.

"Sure. No problem," Tony said gamely. "I can see my house from here."

"Don't worry. I won't let you fall," Steve promised. "You can trust me."

"I never doubted it," Tony answered.

**The End**

* * *

_A/N: So, next Saturday back to A Very Good Team for a few chapters. Then I have another multichapter standalone story set in the Team-verse._


End file.
